


He is nineteen years and seven months old when his life starts

by carolinka



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4390460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinka/pseuds/carolinka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When people reach 18, they stop aging until they meet their soulmate, so that they can grow old together.</p><p>Player A has been murdering their soulmates for decades/centuries now in order to stay forever young. But then his new soulmate, Player B, appears, and this time, Player A finds the situation somehow complicated...</p><p>Read to find out who is the lucky surviver.</p><p>footballkink 2 prompt. But I didn't totally stay true to the prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He is nineteen years and seven months old when his life starts

**Author's Note:**

> STOP! READ THIS!  
> There is some unconsensual sex which some people might find triggering. Don't read if you are easily disturbed. I warned you.  
> And there is vomiting.

1\. He is eighteen years old when he meets Jose. He grits his teeth. He doesn’t understand. He looks around and sees people in love, even if they aren’t each other’s soul mates. He looks around and sees soul mates, young and old, running after their dogs, arguing, playing football in the street, looking for books to read together. He sees them kiss, he sometimes hear them have sex.

It is why he doesn’t understand why he doesn’t have these things. First of all, why does he have a forty year old, grumpy man for a soul mate? He can’t deny the way his body reacts to the man but he can’t actually order his heart to feel something for this man.

Oh he does feel. Pity, anger, hurt. Sometimes even hate.

Pity because this man lost his soul mate (who was no doubt way better for Jose) few decades ago, wandering off for years in misery before he found Cris. Anger because, well, it’s normal to be angry towards someone who uses you to forget someone. Hurt because is this his soul mate? Has he waited for this his whole life? Hurt because Jose is not making any moves to let people know that he has found his soul mate again.

Jose grabs his hair and it’s too rough that he knows his scalp will hurt for days. He is going to be bald before he is thirty with this pace. He can’t move his head to  
control his movements. He is afraid he might faint if Jose doesn’t stop thrusting this deep into his throat. He doesn’t even know why he lets him do this. (He knows actually, he doesn’t have the courage to tell him to stop. And maybe a little afraid of the reaction he’ll get.)

With a grunt, Jose come in his mouth and grabs the back of his head to stop him from escaping. Tears block his vision and his gagging starts to become too much, much worse than ever and before he understands what’s happening he tears Jose’s off his head and he is vomiting his dinner on his shoes. It takes him a lot of time to catch his breath and the taste in his mouth makes him to throw up again. Jose’s stinky dick, his salty come and vomit. Not a good combination at all.

He stares at his own vomit after, he gains his vision back.

This crosses the line.

That night, Cristiano ties Jose to bed, like it’s been done to him many times. He doesn’t do what Jose did to him. He is better than him. He just gags him and makes him suffer with the blade in his hand. It is not a quick death. It isn’t meant to be.

In the morning, everyone talks about Jose. How he was such a great man.

Cristiano nods to all those people. He pretends he agrees. He pretends he is awfully sorry for him too.

He has never felt this great. He has never felt this independent.

2\. He is eighteen years and three months old when he meets Sergio. Every one looks at his soul mate. He doesn’t understand why. His smile is too cheap, everyone can get it. His voice is too loud, he can hear it from a kilometre away. He makes Cristiano eat horrible food he makes, he makes him dance to flamenco music with him.

He is a bullfighter. He is a fucking bullfighter. He hates it. He hates his ridiculous smile. He hates how he can’t hate Sergio totally. He hates that he can’t find any actual reason to end his life. he hates how he tries to please Cristiano. He hates that he is nice, that he never pushes him to do anything he doesn’t want to. He hates because he needs a reason.

He can’t spend his life with his man. He doesn’t find it in himself. He slips the drug in his soup. They make love. For the first time in their relationship, Sergio has a feeling he had done something right. He has a smile on his face when he falls asleep. It is not a quick death, but it’s painless and quiet. He never knows that he has been betrayed. It is for the best. He dies dreaming of the years ahead of them. He is happy when his heart beats for the last time, this is what Cristiano could give him.

In the morning, everyone talks about this. Sergio was a celebrity, with his passion, with his shiny smile and with his talent.

Everyone comes to him to offer their consolations. Cristiano pretends to weep. They pity him.

And when the fuss is all over, Cristiano visits his grave and gives him flowers, honeysuckle, Sergio’s favourite. He gave them to him on their last day together too.

After that, he comes to visit every year. On the only day he made Sergio happy. He weeps.

3\. He is eighteen years and nine months old when he meets Irina. She is beautiful. Everyone tells him how lucky he is to find someone as hot as she is, after he lost Sergio three years ago. Their words are meaningless. She will be gone soon. But this time people will regard him with suspicion. It is not rare for people to kill their soul mates. They will wonder if it is his work. They will be right.

Irina doesn’t have any particular flaws. She is a good friend. She is good in bed. She is funny and easy-going. She is a little bossy, a little whiny and a little clingy. He doesn’t leave him alone to plot her murder.

So he plots when she is near him. He convinces her to move to somewhere else, somewhere no one knows about Sergio. After that it is almost too easy. It is the job of a jealous model. No one bats an eye and no one suspects him.

Everyone comforts him. He has a hard time not rolling his eyes.

4\. He is nineteen years and one month old when he meets Mesut. Cristiano has been staring at him for almost an hour. He can easily sense the other one’s anxiousness, excitement and impatience. It isn’t hard to know your soul mate is near. The two of them sense the attraction, the urge to scream until they hear you and hunger that captures all of your cells eases.

His heart beats. His heart beats for this boy with huge eyes and small mouth. His distracted laugh when the girl says something sends a jolt through his body.

He still wants to be forever young. Even if he’ll be miserable without the one, he wants that. He wants that because he deserves the pain it will cause him. The boredom, the blankness. He remembers all those lovers he could have had and tries to feel something, pain, regret, confusion, anything. It doesn’t come.

(He refuses to think about the boy with huge smile and warm brown eyes. He only thinks about him for one day each year.)

And when they are in the other one’s cheap motel room, after drinking each other in, the boy sleeps and he looks peaceful. He doesn’t know he won’t wake up ever again.

He kisses him on top of his head. “You deserved much better,” he whispers. And damn him if he doesn’t mean it.

5\. He is nineteen years and one month old when he meets Lionel. They compare them. Lionel doesn’t mind, he rolls his eyes when he sees Cristiano is bothered by people’s discussions. He tells him to fuck it. He tells him they are too different to be compared, that he is really really so good. He tries everything to ease his doubts.

And Cristiano knows he means it but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want his glory back. He wants to be the only best. He doesn’t want anyone to argue. He doesn’t want to have supporters. He doesn’t want anyone to have any choice. He wants to be the one.

He’ll miss the rush, he’ll miss the passion between them. They were almost good with each other. They almost clicked. They could’ve been together.

When they find Leo’s body next morning, they don’t understand. They think it is because he wants to live forever.

(It isn’t totally wrong but not totally right either. They are to blame for Leo’s death. They shouldn’t have put insecurities in Cristiano.)

6\. He decides to go to the church. He doesn’t know if he can even get in, if he is a demon of sorts now. But it’s been years, more than twenty years the last time he met his soul mate and it is finally hitting him, that the life is empty without them. He spends too much time sleeping and staring and sighing.

He remembers his parents, dead for almost a century now and he feels a tug in his chest, an emotion that has been forgotten too long ago and he hates it, hates it with all his soul, if there is even left any. He doesn’t want to feel. Emptiness, he can deal with.

He can get in. He doesn’t even feel damned when he does but he is still wary. He stares at his shoes accusingly like they made him come here. He stands up to leave when he hears someone clear his throat.

His heart does some back flip and his knees shake, making it impossible to stay on his feet. He sees the way priest sends him a smile, he doesn’t look shaken as he feels, just plain cheerful. He knows that he knows. He knows he won’t be like the rest.

He would laugh at their faces if someone told him he could enjoy a sermon. But he does. He doesn’t hear a word but he lets the voice wash over him. He almost falls asleep, peacefully.

He doesn’t know how he feels when it is over. Does he want to listen to him speak forever or does he wants to be able to touch him forever? Is he allowed to touch him?

The man has a smile on his face that is too big for him and his eyes are too warm. Cristiano isn’t sure how this man can’t see what a monster he is but he is not going to complain. He is selfish and pragmatic. He stares and stares and stares. The man holds his hand out, his smile firmly plastered on his face even when he is waiting for Cristiano to pick up the courage he needs to take his hand.

He does, afraid he might pass out, if he feels this much when they are only standing aside, touching will be too much. Slowly he takes the priest’s hand, palm to palm. He is once again overwhelmed by the rush of warmness, the electric between them. It seems impossible but his smile is even bigger now. His eyes almost bulge out of his pockets.

“What’s your name?” the boy asks. When he doesn’t get an answer, he shrugs and gives his name instead. “I’m Ricardo. Ricky.”

It takes a full minute for him to find his voice. “Ricky,” he repeats, his name on his own lips making his stomach flip. “I love it.”

They stay like that, hand in hand, eye to eye, one smiling, one gaping, people shooting them amused glances as they pass by.

Cristiano is sure he hasn’t seen anyone more beautiful. For the first time in his life he doesn’t feel guilt for killing his other soul mates. He doesn’t even feel like they were soul mates. Just plain copies, too mismatched with him.

“You are mine,” he says dumbly.

Ricky nods, undisturbed by his sudden possessiveness. “And are you mine?” It’s almost cheeky, cheeky as it can be when you have a lovely, lovely, lovely face.

Too innocent, Cristiano thinks. Always stay like that, he wishes. I’ll make sure you do, he promises.

“Yes,” he breathes out. Ricky takes a step closer to him and there is almost not any space between them anymore. If Cris takes half a step, they’ll be touching.

He does. Their noses touch and Ricky giggles, sending jolts through his body. He feels Ricky’s breathing fasten, and he wants to inhale his scent. Pure, clean and innocent.

Innocent. It will always come to this with Ricky, he guesses.

Cristiano leans in to kiss his sweet lips, wanting to know how soft they are. How they taste. Ricky moves his head to side when they are almost touching. He doesn’t do it to stop him but he looks like he has something to say, so Cristiano stops even when it almost rips a piece of his flesh.

“I have a rule of not kissing people when I don’t know their names.” No mistaking now, he is being cheeky.

“Oh have you kissed other people? I thought priests would have some rules, other than having to know names,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant but the grin on Ricky’s face says he failed. A smile takes over his face too but it must look painful. It’s been a lot since he smiled.

“No. We really do have a rules of not getting involved with anyone unless they are in our fates.”

He is very glad of those rules.

“Cristiano,” he murmurs against his lips, “that’s my name.”

Ricky presses their lips together, placing his hands gently on the each side of his face and the world explodes, inside him, around him and he has to grab Ricky’s arms to stay on his feet.

He is nineteen years and seven months old when his life starts.

**Author's Note:**

> My first criska fic. Kind of. But is anyone surprised? How could anyone kill Kaka? He is basically an angel. Don't be shy to leave comments :)


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